Maddening Discord
by forevergold
Summary: The world is spinning and wet, breathless with the labors of change. The air is gone--heart, sun, and sanity are missing. Why search, why bleed, if you can just stand here, drinking rain? Oneshot.


"_Oh little Cody Pomeray if there had been some way to send a cry to you even when you were too little to know what utterances and cries are for in this dark sad earth...if someone could have said to you then, and made you perceive, 'Fear life, but don't die; you're alone, everybody's alone. Oh Cody Pomeray, you can't win, you can't lose, all is ephemeral, all is hurt_.' "

-_Visions of Cody_, Jack Kerouac

* * *

Parents warn you not to grow up too fast, that the teenage years will be there before you know it. Slamming doors. Loud music. Screaming dismissal.

They don't inform you of an eerie sense of disorientation that creeps into everything familiar, everything that isn't supposed to change. But there it is, ugly and looming, this curiously persistent and rather pathetic concept, identity. It's painful too, biting emptiness that consumes you.

It's all...wrong. You're just waiting in line, nameless and aimless, hoping for a goddamn inclination. Because you don't want to spend the rest of your life in the back of some godforsaken coffee shop, drinking your tears and muttering about how no one understands.

But it's shit because everyone knows you have a good life. You live in a middle-class, suburban home and eat dinner at seven o'clock and paint your nails bright colors so your parents can see you. You fell in love once. Or thought you did. You were normal, average.

And then. Something shifted. Some piece of the universe broke free--the world kept on moving while someone jumped in front of a train, someone lost their job, someone blinked up at storm clouds.

You stopped caring about what people thought. Stopped wishing your friends would actually listen. Stopped pushing to be better, smarter, stronger. You were tired of pretending you knew what you wanted.

It was your turn to cry. To scream. To hate yourself. A stranger looked back in the mirror, a ghost.

That's what parents forget to tell you.

* * *

_Present. _

Alice Cullen had a chem lab today. She was not looking forward to it.

She walks through the crowded hallway of her school, trying to tune out the annoying sounds of lockers clanking, people talking, and girls laughing.

Pushing open the door to the nearest bathroom, she makes her way to the last stall, the need to pee almost excruciating.

She jumps back when she spots a girl sitting on the ground inside the stall, staring straight ahead. Her hand goes to her heart as if she feels faint from such a fright.

"Oh my god, you scared me...hey, are you--" she exclaims.

Alice leans closer into the stall, squinting her eyes. "Bella, is that you?"

* * *

_Three months earlier. _

There is a swing set at a park off of Stevenson that still holds too many memories. It harbors too many secrets. It knows too many things.

Tonight, three girls occupy it, regulars to this spot. Two brunettes and a black haired elf, complete with a shimmering nose piercing that she thinks givers her an edgy look. Angela pushes her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose as Alice holds the bottle of Vodka daintily, her pinky swinging up as though she were drinking tea. They're both laughing over the punch line of some blonde joke.

Bella kicks her foot into the tanbark, her face in the shadows. Long dark hair hides her profile.

"...But really though, don't you guys ever think about the future, like, seriously?" Angela cuts in, still nervous about her college applications.

Alice smirks. "You better watch out Angela, Bella's gonna go all deep on us."

Bella smiles, swiping the bottle away from her. "That's enough for you, Al."

"Well I, for one, am going to be the richest motherfucker in the world. I am going to be _successful_." Alice slurs the last word.

Angela giggles, troubles forgotten. Bella rolls her eyes, her pale face still shaded, the red of her lips illuminated by the faint glow of a nearby street light.

"You don't even know what that means," she mutters.

"Says the valedictorian whose parents already refer to her as "doctor"," Angela shoots back.

Bella flips her off with both hands.

"Yeah, you can't say shit because you've owned that dreaded 'what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up' question since we could talk," Alice adds.

"Oh, and let's not forget about her and Edward getting married--" Angela cuts in, teasing.

Bella reasonably stiffens. "Jesus."

Alice bites her nails. "Dude, Rosalie would eat you."

Angela looks thoughtful. "You know, they're technically not dating. That cheerleader outfit means shit if he's not interested."

"Rosalie?" Bella asks, incredulous. "His _mom _would eat me. Wasn't she on fucking _Good Morning America _last week?"

Alice and Angela crack up, Bella shakes her head at them.

"Oooh, maybe you'd get to have her ring. That thing is a freaking rock, Bell. Have you seen it?" Alice starts jumping up and down with excitement in her eyes.

"Talk about a defense weapon. Wonder how many carats that sucker is…" Angela karate-chops the air.

"You are BOTH delusional. He doesn't even know my name." Bella takes another sip, obviously uncomfortable with the turn of conversation, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "You asked the question, Ang, what do you think?"

"Wait, wait, wait a second..._you," _Alice points accusingly at Bella,_ "_haven't officially answered yet…"

She stands up clumsily, straightening dramatically. "Isabella Swan, what do you see in your future?" She asks in a deep voice that sounds ridiculous.

Alice falls down in a fit of giggles, Angela snorts loudly, Bella takes another drink.

"That wasn't the question." Bella mumbles quietly.

Alice makes the sound of a wrong answer buzzer, still laughing.

Angela turns into a game show host. "I'm sorry, please try again."

Alice, mimicking Bella's voice, shouts, "I'm going to fucking Harvard because I'm so perfect. And then I'm off to med school and all that other hell so I can be a doctor and save the entire fucking world!"

Angela takes up the buzzer sound, repeating it over and over as Bella stands up, pulls out a cigarette and sticks it in her mouth without lighting it. "Fuck you guys."

She starts walking away. Alice is still giggling.

"You still haven't answered the question…" she sing-songs.

* * *

_Present. _

Bella looks up, seemingly not surprised to see Alice, expressionless as she stands slowly.

"What are you...doing in here?" Alice asks, dumfounded.

Bella slips out of the stall without answering.

"Wait, Bella, god are you ok?"

Bella stops but doesn't turn around.

"I'm fine." She answers, hollow. She expels a cold, humorless chuckle. "Just fine."

* * *

Rosalie Hale always got what she wanted. It was just a fact of life. She wore designer clothes, owned designer bags, and looked perfect all the time.

It was that simple.

It just…was what it was.

"Can I have a non-fat, sugar free Chai Latte, extra-hot, no whip cream?" The blonde-haired beauty asks without really asking.

"It doesn't come with whip cream." The barista/cashier couldn't help but inform her. He's cute, she notices, in a brooding, coffee shop kind of way.

She waves her hand dismissively at him, before pulling out a crisp bill.

"Maybe you should just get skim milk." Someone suggests.

The cashier laughs, mock saluting the stranger with his Sharpie. Rosalie whips around, peering sharply at Bella Swan, the girl waiting in line behind her.

Bella nods at the boy behind the register. "Hey Jake."

Jake smirks in return. "Hey Bells."

"Bitch," Rosalie mumbles under her breath.

Bella shrugs unapologetically.

* * *

Mr. Banner should not teach English. This is something every student understand without needing to take his class.

He just…did not teach. But maybe that could be attributed to the mid-life crisis he apparently was undergoing every day since the beginning of his teaching career.

"...So we've established Morrison is using Pilate as a sort of moral compass, but what about Milkman?"

He looks around half-heartedly, praying someone will just say something to fill the silence.

In the back row, Edward and Jasper snicker over a crude drawing of two stick figures. Mr. Banner's eyes narrow at the auburn-haired boy who still needed a haircut.

"Mr. Masen?"

Edward's dimples disappear. He looks up in alarm.

"Milkman?" Mr. Banner prods.

"Umm...Milkman is this guy who...comes from kind of a messed up family...doesn't really know where he's going and uh...what was the question?" The pretty boy tugs on his hair, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. The rugged blonde-haired boy next to him coughs back a laugh.

Mr. Banner starts getting red in the face. "Maybe if you'd been--"

"Milkman proves his worth as a protagonist because he experiences growth, because he matures from the selfish prick that he is to a man who can define freedom. But the whole time he's just trying to escape, just trying to fucking leave so he can understand himself and feel something and grow wings."

The class turns to stare dumbly at the indignant, belligerent voice of Bella Swan.

Mr. Banner looks at her uncomfortably, pulling on his tie. "Yes, well, thank you for your--"

She continues, rushed and passionate and unable to stop. "Because being in this town, drowning in his father's power, held down by ghosts and legacy and killer bitches, he cannot find his ultimate purpose. He is restrained, his future distorted and torn and he can't even goddamn think for himself anymore. And god, all he wants. All he fucking wants...is to fly."

Edward gazes curiously at her as the bell rings.

Mr. Banner decides he needs to start using new deodorant.

* * *

_Present. _

Alice reaches forward to grab Bella's shoulder, turning her around awkwardly.

"...The entire school thinks you're crazy...and you...you don't talk to me, you don't hang out with us, you don't _do _anything. You're just...gone all the time. Please. Tell me what's wrong. I've always been there, Bell. You've changed and I don't even know who you are anymore." Her voice pleads, bouncing emotion and desperation off the walls around them.

Bella blows her bangs off her forehead, shaking her head. "I don't either, Al."

* * *

Edward Masen is popular.

He has a lot of friends.

He is unbelievably handsome.

He has a lot of girls who are friends, too.

Well, some of them, at least.

School is out and all Edward wants to do is get his books and go home. That's all he ever wants.

He always wonders if that's too much to ask.

Rosalie simpers up to him, leaning seductively on his locker, inquiring as to his weekend plans.

He tries to mask his look of annoyance.

He attempts to understand why his friends think she's attractive. She's still chattering about something.

Her eyes snap past him. Suddenly, her hand snaps out, her eyes no longer cheery, but condescending. "Where's your little friend?" she spits out.

Edward turns to see her talons wrapped around a small girl's arm. He starts to protest when the spiky-haired migit looks directly at her and trails off sarcastically, "My little…friend…"

Edward applauses her look of mocking contemplation.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the girl from his English class breaks up the hostile encounter. "Rose, piss off. If you have shit to say, don't involve other people."

Edward scrutinizes her, trying to remember…

The sassy brunette nods at the fairy, her pale face sharp and unreadable as she continues to make her way out of the hall without acknowledging Rosalie.

Rosalie shakes with fury as Edward stares, mesmerized by the flash of dark, dark eyes that dominate her haunted face.

"My father _golfs _with the Harvard dean of admission!" The blond screams at her back, causing everyone in the hallway to stop and watch.

Edward watches English-girl stop and twist around, exhilarated by the chance to catch those eyes.

Those dark, dark eyes.

She spoke calmly, just loud enough for Rosalie to hear. "Your father is also _fucking _your maid." She makes a crude movement with her hips.

Edward rubs his mouth, trying to hide his amusement. Rosalie gasps in horror.

The hallway remains frozen even after she pushes through the doors leading out to the parking lot.

* * *

Edward is walking with his friends in the rain. They're all teasing him for going to the library instead of going with them to Seattle.

He doesn't bother reminding them that he has two tests and a paper due. Nor does he remind them what happened last time they went to Seattle.

He continues to walk backwards toward the library entrance making lewd gestures. He doesn't see Bella, with her hood up, teetering under the weight of books in her arms, exiting.

He runs right into her and everything falls onto the wet pavement. His friends laugh obnoxiously and pretend not to be paying attention.

"Hey, asshole, why don't you watch where the fuck you're--" Bella looks up and hastily starts picking up her books, flustered.

Edward bends to help.

"Sorry, I didn't see you...my friends...listen, I, uh, wanted to thank you."

Bella glances up, puzzled, Edward notices a bruise on her cheek.

"Shit, what happened to your face?"

Bella rushes to stack her books while Edward remains frozen. Her hood falls off and the rain slides down her nose, darkening her hair and eyelashes.

"I got hit with a baseball." She explains.

"Jesus. You ok?" He asks without thinking.

Silence.

He ducks his head, realizing he barely knows her. "I just wanted to say thanks for covering my ass the other day in Thompson's class…"

Bella refuses to look at him as she struggles to stand with the books in her arms. Edward easily plucks them up for her. Bella looks as if she's going to protest, but refrains.

"So...did you mean it?" He asks, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground.

Bella looks at her shoes. "Mean what?"

"What you said...in class?"

Bella stares up at him, bewildered, but upon seeing his expression, her eyes turn calculating.

Edward just watches.

"You're lost too, huh? The thing is...none of us really know what we want to get out of it."

Edward scrutinizes her, intrigued. "Out of what?"

"Life."

The rain pounds unceasingly around them.

Edward can't stop _looking _at her.

Bella quickly grabs her books. "It's shit, isn't it?"

Edward wrinkles his brow in bemused shock. "Yeah."

He watches as she walks away, his friends moving in around him, clapping him on the shoulder and howling. "Who was that, Masen?"

"This girl in my English class," he responds, distant.

* * *

_Present. _

Alice moves closer to Bella, her voice softening, "Look, if this is about your mom, or...or about Edward--"

Bella stops her, irritated. "It's not, alright?"

Alice begs, her face beseeching. "This is how you want it to end? We're all leaving each other and graduating and this…this is what you want to leave with? Just let me in...let me help you."

Bella finally looks at her. "You can't."

* * *

It is raining over the Swan house.

The sound is loud, attempting to drown out the yelling and cursing from inside, but it is constantly in battle.

Internal. External.

In. Out.

Drip. Drop.

The rain wonders if it will ever win in this house. If it will ever be heard.

There is one, it reassures itself, that always hears it.

Always.

* * *

It's devastating to think that you spend all this time pretending to know answers. Because you don't. There are people who come into your life just to leave it, people who could change your life, but who don't. People you leave behind because you're different and the world is tinted blue and the rain is clean.

But see the point isn't to be inspirational or to say you're a failure or that high school is just a big motherfucking joke. The point is that you don't know.

You…you don't know _shit_.

And it's still raining.


End file.
